Page 22 of Benidorm Again

Big Sue has heard that I am being illegally held against my will. She is a social worker and very high up. She is asking whether she should call her comrades in the Manchesteroffice. Freedom, she reminds me, is the cornerstone of a civilised society.

One glance out of the hotel bedroom window tells me that not only is it perfect shopping weather out there, but that we are very central and Big Sue is right. I can see the main high street from here. It’s only across the square. A two-minute walk. There are crowds of people. No one will notice if I slip out of the hotel to quickly try on a few see-through nightwear items or a glamorous show-stopper dress for the stag do. I mean pre-moon spree.

I text Big Sue to confirm that Elvis is leaving the building.

Within minutes, I’ve slipped past reception, and I’m outside. What a headrush. I feel like a spy. Keeping my head down, I cross the square and head straight for the shops. It is heaving with shoppers. And not one of them realises that I am in the newspapers today. On the front cover, no less. Involved in a salacious scandal that is not based on any truth whatsoever. Me and two royals, mixed up in a passionate Schengen love triangle. One of whom saved my life and is trending on TikTok. I must not get distracted. Especially not by singing dignitaries.

My phone pings. It is as if Liberty senses my predicament. She has texted to ask if I am fooling around with Prince Charming behind Matteo’s back. I tell her that I am not.Then she asks if Luke is single and, if so, to pass on her number.

I don’t think so.

I’m not sure why exactly, but I don’t want to do that. I’ve seen her ruin greater men than him. I’m not even sure Liberty, with her wandering vagina, is his type.

‘Hello.’

I glance up in shock to see Luke grinning down at me. He’s very tall. But then all Norwegians are. I briefly wonder if Big Sue is part Norwegian before snapping to my senses. How can this be possible? Luke was ordered to stay at the hotel and keep out of sight.

‘I followed you here,’ he says, answering my unasked question.

I frown in response. This is so not cool.

‘I followed you so that I could explain myself properly. Before we perform together tonight.’

‘Couldn’t you just have waited until we leave for the theatre?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’ll know by now who I am. I don’t want this to put you off. It will affect the way we sing together. It always does.’

I take a moment to swallow. He’s not wrong.

‘I think we have chemistry, don’t you?’ He has a warmth and steadiness to him that makes what he is saying sound very provocative. ‘Our voices harmonise perfectly. I don’t want that to change.’

‘I’m fine, honestly.’ I raise my gaze to meet his. I can feel the heat rise up my neck. ‘It won’t affect my performance tonight.’

Oh, but it will.

For the first time since we met, his face lights up. ‘You were magnificent last night. Not just your voice but your whole… your whole being. It was like...’

I watch as he visibly struggles to find the right words to say. His eyes fly around before settling on mine, his toned arms out wide, palms up as though he’s about to burst into song. ‘It was like being on stage with the Aurora Borealis. You lit up the entire fucking theatre with your talent.’

I am literally going weak at the knees.

‘It was an honour to share the stage with you. And I’ve never said that to anyone. Believe me.’

I peer shyly up at him. I do believe him. I have yet to see him give anyone the time of day.

‘Coffee?’ He is gazing back at me in an impossibly engaging way. The sort of way you’d react to a newborn puppypoking its tongue out for the first time. Ironically, between the two of us, he is the one now behaving out of character. Maybe it is him who feels different around me. But he’s dead right about one thing; we do have excellent chemistry on stage. It’s making sure we don’t develop chemistryoffstage that could be the problem.

‘What’s the harm?’ he says in the low, soothing voice of a man who doesn’t know when to give up. He casually puts his hands in his pockets drawing attention to his athletic physique and slim legs.

And like I’m shaking myself out of a trance, I say, ‘That’s very kind but … it’s fine. There’s no need to explain, Your High… yourself. I don’t feel difficult around you.’

Lies! Lies!I almost called him Your Highness. I need to get a grip. ‘Besides, I have a lot of shopping to do,’ I say, readying myself for escape. I need to put some distance between us.

‘Need any assistance? Gucci, Versace, Armani. I have accounts with them all. They’d be happy to oblige you with a personal shopper to help speed things up.’

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